


Soup

by YouGottaBeBlitzenMyHearthstone (Aya_Chi007)



Series: The Chase Space [7]
Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Fluff, M/M, New Character - Freeform, OCs - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, chase space, hearth has a hard time with cooking portions, now i want potato soup, the chase space gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 14:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12483872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aya_Chi007/pseuds/YouGottaBeBlitzenMyHearthstone
Summary: It’s one of his favorite things to warm up with on a cold winter day.





	Soup

       It’s freezing. That’s what Hearthstone’s train of thought reduces to as he marches through the streets. Magnus and Alex had stopped by while he was in the middle of preparing potato soup, loaded with plenty of cheddar cheese, bacon, green onions, and sour cream. It’s one of his favorite things to warm up with on a cold winter day. The only problem: He can never get the serving amount just right and always ends up making enough to feed practically half of Boston.

 

    Even after feeding everyone at the Chase Space (they always have more residents during the winter. Less chance of freezing to death) and everyone who stops in for a meal, there’s still more than enough to have again for dinner. He and Alex had doled out several portions of soup in individual serving size bowls, enough to take to the group working at  _ Blitzen’s Best _ that day with plenty of extras in case Hearth passed anyone who looked cold and hungry, while Magnus carefully stacked them in an insulated bag.

 

    He adjusts the strap on his shoulder, trying to ease the pain from where it digs against his clavicle. He hasn’t made it to the shop yet. He has, however, passed out plenty of bowls of soup to groups of hobos, bundled up in threadbare clothes. It makes him not mind his slow journey so much.

 

    A flash of red in his peripheral catches his attention. He glances down to see a small girl in a baggy jacket, barely older than seven, reaching out for his bag. Her eyes, like pinpoints of light against her dirty face, fly open as she realizes she’s been caught. Before Hearthstone can blink, the girl dashes into a nearby alley.

 

    Hearthstone stares blankly at the opening of the alley. He could ignore this. He’s tempted to, if he’s being honest with himself. It’s bitterly cold, this girl probably doesn’t even know sign language, and seeing Blitzen would be nice. But he had seen the hollowness in her cheeks, the almost wild gaze in her eyes. He knows she’s cold, hungry, and probably alone.

 

    Tugging at his scarf, he ventures into the alley after her. She didn’t go far. He finds her a few steps in, tucked between a couple trashcans and a dumpster. She’s curled up in a cardboard box lined with various pieces of fabric, like some sort of odd bird’s nest. Cautiously, he kneels in front of her. Her pale gray eyes track his movements, her limbs tense as if she’s ready to bolt again, watching him as he pulls out a bowl of soup and offers it to her.

 

    Small hands, scratched and dirty, reach out to take the bowl. The girl sets the bowl on her lap, tugging her oversized red jacket around her tiny frame, before bringing her hand to her mouth before bending her wrist, showing Hearthstone her palm.  _ Thank you. _

 

__ Hearthstone jerks back slightly in shock. Most people don’t use ASL offhandedly (heh, off _ handedly _ , puns). Hell, most people don’t even know ASL. He wonders how she knew he was deaf. Did she try to call after him when she realized he had food? Has word gotten around about him in the homeless community? Tilting his head, he signs,  _ You know A-S-L? _

 

__ Her eyes seem to pierce his soul from beneath her pale hair as the little girl nods.  _ Yes. I am deaf. How do you know it? _

 

__ Despite the practically unbearable chill of winter, a hot surge of protectiveness spreads through Hearthstone. Had this girl been kicked out of her home for being deaf? He can see his father’s cold eyes glaring hatefully at him. He can’t believe this. It’s the dead of winter, it’s a miracle she hasn’t frozen to death.  The small girl stares at him as she awaits an answer.

 

_ I’m deaf also.  _ Hearthstone keeps a straight face as her mouth drops in a small ‘o’ of surprise.  _ Do you need a place to stay? _

 

__ Immediately, her eyes seem to dim as she shrinks back in her box.  _ Is this a trick? I don’t want to go back there. _

 

__ Back there? He’s not sure what she’s referring to, but now isn’t the time to ask. Shaking his head, Hearthstone scoots a little bit closer.  _ My name is H-E-A-R-T-H.  _ He sticks with the shortened version. Easier for the small child to follow along.  _ I work at a shelter for youth. You could get a bath, clean clothes, food.   _

 

    Her hands drop to cling to the bowl in her lap. Hearth remembers being homeless, how hard finding food was. He wonders how long it’s been since this girl has eaten. He wants her to come back to the Chase Space, wants to make sure she’s okay. He can’t force her though.

 

    Finally, she passes back the bowl of soup before she raises her shaking hands.  _ My name is M-A-R-C-Y. Where do we go? _

 

__ Smiling faintly, Hearthstone slips the bowl back into his bag as he stands.  _ First we have to deliver this food. You can meet the other person who runs the shelter with me. _

 

__ Marcy nods as she gets to her feet, . Gingerly, she reaches out for Hearthstone’s gloved hand. He lets her hold onto it, shivering as he feels the iciness of her skin even through the knitted cotton. They makes their way out of the alley. Thankfully,  _ Blitzen’s Best  _ is only a few streets down.

 

    When they walk into the shop, Hearthstone relishes the warm air. There’s several shoppers browsing the selection that Blitzen has so carefully crafted. Hearth’s eyes drift around the store: Cam bobbing in front of a display table as they refold sweaters; Gabby redressing one of the mannequins; Trevante at the register; Izzick and Pablo both are busy helping customers. No sign of Blitzen.

 

    He looks down at Marcy, pointing forward before he starts walking. She trails behind him slightly, staring around at everything with wide eyes. Hearthstone slowly guides her to the back, waving to Trevante as he passes.

 

    They find Blitzen in the studio, working on some new piece. Possibly a custom order, maybe even a gift for someone. There’s no red or white fabric visible, so it’s most likely not for Hearthstone. Marcy squeezes his hand tighter and he glances down just in time to see her shuffle behind him.

 

    Her shoes against the floor must have made a sound because Blitzen finally tears his eyes away from his sewing machine. Hearthstone feels his face heat up slightly at the way Blitzen’s eyes light up at the sight of him. Blitzen steps closer, his eyes drifting down at the sight of Hearthstone’s hand behind his back.  _ Gift? _

 

Hearthstone feels the corner of his mouth tug up in a smile. He lifts his free hand, tilting it back and forth in a kind of gesture before gently tugging Marcy forward. She creeps forward, peering around Hearthstone’s side. Blitzen’s eyes widen at the sight of her before he looks back up at Hearth.

 

    They get settled around the small table Blitzen has in the corner, Marcy and Blitzen plied with bowls of soup that they eagerly dig into as Hearthstone signs, explaining what happened on his walk on to the shop.

 

_ She’s going back with me,  _ he concludes. Marcy smiles at him, soup somehow smeared on her cheek. Fondly, Hearth picks up a napkin and wipes her cheek clean. He can finally see the actual color of her skin without the dirt in the way. She’s almost as pale as an elf.

 

    Blitzen raises an eyebrow at his action. His hands start to move from the table, but he drops them again as his eyes go to the entryway. Hearth twists in his chair to see the staff filing in, all chatting with each other as they come toward the table. He knows Blitzen’s not going to let this go so easily, but also knows he’s not going to make a scene. He can deal with that.


End file.
